


Drywalker (The Rough Water Remix)

by Nightfox



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 2013 Camelot Remix, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non Consensual, Season/Series 01, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightfox/pseuds/Nightfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn't have to be like this...Merlin would have <i>given</i> Arthur anything he'd asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drywalker (The Rough Water Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaizoku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizoku/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Selkie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/67227) by [kaizoku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizoku/pseuds/kaizoku). 



> Major thanks to my beta [RocknVaughn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RocknVaughn/pseuds/RocknVaughn) for her _endless_ patience with my whinging!
> 
> I read Kaizoku's story "Selkie" on KMM several years ago and I fell in love with it. When I got my assignment, I really didn't even have to think about which of his stories to remix. I knew I wanted to do this one!
> 
> For those unfamilar with the legends, selkies are the seal-people of the Orkney Islands, Ireland & Scotland. Living most of its life as a seal in the sea, a selkie can-under the right circumstances-shed his/her seal-skin, and become man. They are invariably beautiful in their human form, and many a mortal has fallen in love with a child of the sea. Rarely does it end well. 
> 
> Kaizoku captured the essence of selkie mythology beautifully with his story. I can only hope that I've managed to add something worthwhile with my take on it.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: I kept Kaizoku's original dialogue intact.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_I could have lost myself_

_In rough blue waters in your eyes._

_And I miss you still._

_~ Joshua Radin, Winter_

 

Merlin no longer wore the coat of spotted fur in which he’d been born. Before he’d come to Camelot, he’d never been parted from it for more than a few hours, only exercising his power as a drywalker in tentative little spurts of adolescent exploration. It had always been a scary rush to exchange his natural flippers and fur for smooth skin and articulated limbs. Now he walked on legs and feet as a matter of course, his true nature hidden away in the bottom of a cupboard in an abandoned room in King Uther’s castle.

However, though he was separated from his sleek fur for the time being, his original skin still remained a part of him, and it needed care. Without constant immersion in the sea and regular exposure to his naturally produced oils, the skin-coat would become fragile. So he bathed it carefully in salt water and oiled it dry at least once a week. Often, he’d sit with his coat draped across his knees and let memories of home wash over him. He could smell the brine, feel the action of the water swirling all around him, hear the chortles and cries of his friends, and feel the caressing stroke of his mother’s flipper. It could not be denied that he missed it all…but not badly enough to leave Camelot and the life he’d built here. The longing for home couldn’t compare to the longing he felt for the prince he loved. 

~~~~~

He was lost to his people long before the day he shed his coat, stepped from the sea, and headed for Camelot. Merlin was a goner from the very moment he beheld the golden man splashing at the water’s edge. In that instant, that tiny pulse in time, he felt his soul flee through his eyes, and come into the unwitting keeping of that beautiful human. When he shook the water from his fur and left the ocean behind him a few weeks later, he was but following his soul to its new home. 

~~~~~

Merlin felt it the moment human hands touched his hidden coat. He ran for the room where it had been concealed, and arrived just in time to see Arthur turn away from the hearth with a triumphant smirk on his lips. Frozen, Merlin watched in horror as his precious coat was slowly consumed by the fire burning on the dusty grate. Already curling round the edges, it was beginning to blacken and smoke.

He checked the impulse to thrust his hands into the flames to yank it out. It was too late. The fragile magic contained in the silky fur had been destroyed by the first surge of scorching heat across its sleek surface. Now, it was nothing more than a crumbling stretch of brittle skin and hair. 

There was a sick rush of salt water in his mouth, and a sudden churn of nausea rose up to choke Merlin’s voice from within.

Anguished, he thought, _Oh Arthur…what have you done?_

There wasn’t so much as a flicker of remorse in the rough blue depths of the prince’s eyes. Merlin thought, _He knows what he’s done. He_ knows _…this was deliberate. Dear gods, he_ wanted _this!_ Moving faster than the turn of Merlin’s thoughts, Arthur pinned him up against the wall, the frigid stone blocks a coarse scrape at his back. 

“Now, try and escape,” Arthur said, his voice muffled against the skin of Merlin’s neck, smug satisfaction unmistakable in the taunt. "You can't, can you?"

Merlin felt himself sag in defeat, his head drooping onto Arthur’s shoulder as he whispered, “No, sir.”

There was no hesitation in the prince when he laid his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, pressing the servant to his knees. Despondent, Merlin didn’t fight. He sank down to the hard wood floor, seeing a long future stretching bleakly before him, a future spent on his knees before this man.

Merlin had only the vaguest idea of what he should do with the angry looking phallus Arthur forced between his lips. Choking on the hard flesh, Merlin pulled his head back until only the tip of the thing remained in his mouth. It felt strange on his tongue. This…this just wasn’t something his people did. Even drywalkers like Merlin rarely mated in human form, preferring to keep their natural shape, rolling through the sea in joyous abandon. Not that Merlin had ever mated with anyone before, not with man, not with seal…not even with another drywalker.

Tentative, Merlin lapped at Arthur’s cock, tasting it-testing it, getting used to the feel of it against his lips. This was his life now, for better or for worse, and he’d make of it what he could. There was no choice anymore; he was in Arthur’s thrall…and he would never wear his true shape again.

It was but a moment before Arthur’s insistent hands tugged him forward again, sliding his hardened length straight to the back of Merlin’s mouth. However, Arthur didn't stop there. Continuing to pull with his hands and push with his hips, he jammed himself all the way down Merlin’s throat. Choking, shuddering, desperately trying to accommodate Arthur’s need, Merlin’s jaw worked furiously. After a few airless seconds, Merlin finally caught the knack of breathing around the obstruction, and he relaxed a bit more into the unfamiliar act. He experimented, sucking for several seconds, then swirling his tongue around Arthur’s cock, trying to accommodate as much of the stony prick as he could. When Arthur began to slide back and forth across his lips, Merlin found an alternating rhythm of swirl and suck that seemed to please his prince, if the groans the man emitted were anything to judge by.

Well, he’d _thought_ he was pleasing Arthur, but it was only a few minutes before the prince abruptly pulled away. Then Arthur was shoving him back with a boot to his chest. Merlin clattered to the ground and stared up in bewilderment. Had he done something wrong? Arthur didn’t speak, simply dropped to his knees by Merlin’s side, the expression on his face almost…tender. A callused hand stroked the hair back from Merlin’s face, whilst eyes blue as the sky caressed his lips with intent. It was a brief moment of calm before a whirlwind descended.

Arthur swept over Merlin like a storm-surge. He was everywhere at once, pressing Merlin down, covering him, consuming him with lips and tongue. His hands seemed to separate themselves, the palms from the fingers, moving over Merlin’s body independent of each other. Stunned, Merlin froze while he fought to master himself. The fledgling bond with Arthur held him in place, while his natural instincts screamed at him to flee the furious squall threatening to overwhelm him.

Finally, the magic won out and Merlin moaned in relief even as he rose to meet his master. Mimicking Arthur’s actions, he used his entire mouth--lips, teeth and tongue--to answer his prince’s demand.

Hard hands curled around his shoulders; Arthur’s grip turning painful. The prince pushed himself away and reared back on his knees, looming ominously above. Disoriented by the sudden shift, Merlin lay passive, waiting for his master to make the next move. His mouth felt weird and wet, a foreign flavor on his tongue. When he felt for his lips, his fingers came away moist with Arthur’s fluids; it was _not_ a pleasant sensation. However, before he could wipe the clinging wet away, Arthur intervened, yanking at Merlin’s hand, forcing it high above his head. Sweeping in again, Arthur attacked his mouth, teeth stinging as they nipped and tugged at Merlin’s lips. Again, Merlin mirrored Arthur’s actions back at him. Biting and licking at the prince’s lips, he sucked hard on his master’s tongue when it breached his mouth.

The bond kept him calm through the strange salivary exchange his master seemed so eager for, but when Arthur began to yank at his breeches, instinct had Merlin fighting once again. The cold air rushed across his tender flesh, heightening his humiliation as the prince ruthlessly exposed him. Then his master’s hand curled round his cock, and Merlin’s whole body seized up, his muscles locking for a long moment as the magic fought with his self-preservation instincts for ascendency. Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, Merlin went limp as the ancient power swept through him, smothering his urge to fight. Arthur began to move his hand on Merlin, roughly stroking him to hardness, swiping up and down his cock with a firm, insistent grip.

"You want this, don't you?” Arthur’s breath was hot against his skin. “You've wanted it since you first became my servant, I bet."

Merlin whimpered, wanting to refute the arrogant, possessive declaration even while his traitorous body rose to meet his bonded master’s touch.

 _I didn’t want it like this._ Never _like this._ Merlin wanted to say. _It wasn’t supposed to be this way…I loved you…it didn’t have to be like this!_

Pressing his captive flat, Arthur gentled his touch. It was almost as if he could hear Merlin’s silent protest. Lips softened and clung, petitioning where before they had demanded. Fingers ceased to bruise and instead began to coax. Once more, Arthur was everywhere, but this time he washed over Merlin with the gentle ripple of wavelets in a tidal pool, instead of the rough slap of a choppy sea.

For the first time, Merlin began to enjoy his master’s touch. Arthur mouthed over every inch of Merlin’s soft white skin, slowly making his way down Merlin’s body. Finally, reaching the apex of Merlin’s thighs, he wrapped his supple lips around the straining flesh there and sucked Merlin into a vortex of _hot_ and _wet_ and _oh gods good!_ Moaning loudly, lost in the unexpected pleasure, he barely noticed when Arthur insinuated a few slickened fingers beneath his balls. However, he jerked his hips in surprise when one oily fingertip teased its way into the tight-clenched center of his body. Frightened by the sudden intrusion, Merlin cried out, his spine flexing, arching against his captor’s solid bulk; he began to thrash in terror, his cries growing louder as Arthur advanced further into his body.

Then there was a hand over his mouth, and Arthur’s weight crushing him flat against the floor. The prince mouthed urgently at Merlin’s ear. Hypersensitive, Merlin shuddered all over, keening his distress. 

His master’s voice was harsh and guttural as he demanded, "Tell me you want me." 

When Merlin hesitated for a heartbeat too long, Arthur nipped sharply at the tender skin behind his ear. He thrust his fingers in hard, curling and tugging as Merlin bucked, arching off the floor. A wordless growl demanded Merlin’s acknowledgement. 

He couldn’t stop the twisting of his body with Arthur’s fingers curling and uncurling inside him, but he managed to dutifully huff out the words Arthur demanded, "I want you." 

Then the fingers were gone, and Arthur was pressing the blunt tip of his cock against Merlin’s opening. Merlin tried to squirm away, but Arthur had the head inside before he could so much as squeak in protest. In spite of the mounting fear and tearing pain, there was a brief moment in the midst of that intolerably intimate invasion when, to his horror, Merlin realized his own cock was still hard as rock. However, the betrayal by his own senses wasn’t enough to stop Merlin from fighting; the bond had yet to _completely_ consume his will. Writhing and kicking, he pulled his body up, trying to stop Arthur from furthering his painful possession. Raising his hands, he tried to push the prince off, pressing against his chest in a vain attempt to dislodge the bulk of the heavily muscled man. Hands slipping and elbows flying, Merlin resorted to biting and clawing at Arthur in a last act of desperate denial.

His struggle was in vain. Arthur was heavier, stronger and determined to complete the possession of his captive mate. It seemed the rape of Merlin’s soul, and the destruction of his future wasn’t enough to satisfy Arthur’s need for conquest; he wanted everything. He would have every last scrap of Merlin’s being for his own. 

Rearing back, the warrior-prince gave one mighty lunge and drove forward, burying himself to the hilt inside his servant’s body. A scream dying in his throat, Merlin froze as his world contracted and imploded. All was pain.

Arthur stilled within him, hands anchoring Merlin’s hips in place. Little by little, the pain began to ease, the magic of the bonding washing it away in soothing waves. Eventually, Merlin became aware of Arthur above him. The prince lay snug in the cradle of Merlin’s hips. His lips resumed the tender roaming Merlin recognized from the moments leading up to his possession. Smothering his skin in tiny kisses, the prince murmured little endearments as he wandered, “so good, you’re so good, oh yes,” and Merlin found himself calming again under Arthur’s caresses.

He’d never mated with anyone, but his people weren't prudes. Merlin had seen it done often enough; he knew what should come next. Tentatively, he began to roll his hips, keeping the movement gentle lest the pain return. Arthur shifted lightly, taking most of his weight from Merlin, and Merlin followed the movement with a short, shallow thrust of his hips. The knifing pain was gone; now all he could feel was a burning stretch where his master’s prick was lodged within him. Canting his hips up, Merlin continued to press himself against Arthur. Burying his hands in the prince’s golden hair, he sought his master’s eyes and tried to convey his readiness to continue. This was to be his life; Arthur had become the center of his world now, in fact as well as intent.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Arthur began to move inside him. Several long smooth thrusts followed, and Merlin tried to match Arthur’s rhythm, pushing into each stroke. It…it wasn’t _so_ bad anymore. Merlin was thinking there might even be a chance that someday he would come to enjoy--

_Ohhhh! Oh gods! What…what_ is _that? Ohhh!!_

His thoughts stuttered and stalled when Arthur’s cock brushed against something inside him, and Merlin’s entire being exploded with fierce pleasure. It rushed through him in a wild flood. Any reticence Merlin had been feeling was washed aside as the ecstasy surged over him, overwhelming in its intensity. He was vaguely aware of his flailing limbs and grasping hands, but in the moment, he was heedless of everything except the need for _more, more, MORE!!_

There may have been a soft puff of laughter from his master. Merlin would never be sure afterwards because Arthur _gave_ him the ‘more’ he so eagerly sought, and nothing else could penetrate the wild ecstasy of those precious moments. Arthur’s hips snapped and rolled, thrusting his prick deep into Merlin’s core with long, pistoning strokes. Hitting that sweet spot over and over, Arthur soon reduced Merlin to a writhing, drooling, jabbering wreck.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.

Arthur yelled once, a short, sharp shout, driving his hips forward and stilling on the downstroke of one last deep thrust. He shuddered all over, his breath rushing out of him in a long, shaking sigh before he collapsed on top of Merlin’s trembling form. Still pulsing with frustrated need, Merlin struggled to reach his own cock where it continued to throb desperately, trapped between their heaving bellies.

However, possessive in his triumph, Arthur denied him even that relief, capturing his hands and pinning them above his head again. Instead of reaching for Merlin himself, he lifted his hips once more, and resumed thrusting. The prince’s moves were slow, shallow, and deliberate, Merlin’s need rubbing and pulsing between them. Finally, _finally_ Merlin felt his taut, sensitive balls throb and tighten before the agonizing tension gave and he spurted wetly, coating both their bellies with his hot, creamy seed. 

Merlin shuddered one last time, and then went still. Arthur came down on him, dropping all his weight at once. He covered Merlin entirely, crushing him flat against the hard, wood floor--Merlin's relief a smeared mess across their skin. It was done. He now belonged to Arthur _body_ and _soul_. Forever fettered to the man whose flesh still lodged in his own, never again would Merlin swim the seas he’d been born in. Turning his head to the side, he could just make out the fireplace where the last blackened scraps of his coat lay curled in the ash. Now trapped in man-form forever, he was no longer a drywalker, he could never change back. His family, his pod, his _people_ were lost to him. He could never go home.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Arthur began to gently swipe at the tears on his cheeks. The prince tilted Merlin’s face back to him, searching his watering eyes for a long moment. He appeared puzzled. Leaning down, he laid a tentative kiss on Merlin’s trembling lips. Neither of them closed their eyes.

When he drew back, Arthur looked stricken, as if only _just now_ realizing the implications of what he’d done. The signs of confusion and the first stirrings of a vague remorse surprised Merlin. Arthur had been so smug, so triumphant and forceful when he’d destroyed Merlin’s will and forced his own there in its place. Now he looked…young…terribly young, and just a little bit scared.

“Merlin?” He whispered.

A long pause, then, “Oh gods...what have I done?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> I grew up listening to my grandmother telling fantastical tales of fairies and elves, bogeymen and banshees, and all sorts of other supernatural creatures. But I always _really_ loved the sad, haunting tales of the selkies. Full of longing and heartache, they were tragically beautiful stories where everyone seemed destined for heartbreak from the the very first word.
> 
> Kaizoku's story wasn't a happy one, but it shouldn't have been. I know this angsty fic of mine is probably even less happy, but I'm afraid that's the nature of these tales!
> 
> You can read a bit more about selkies [Here](http://celticsociety.freeservers.com/selkie.html).


End file.
